As We Breathe
by Aurora Borealia
Summary: When Ed is betrayed by Isabella and captured by the Court of Owls, his only hope is Oswald. But he begins to wonder, after all that Oswald suffered by having to watch Ed and Isabella's relationship, if Oswald will come to save him after all. And what of his own feelings for the mayor that he had temporarily been blind to? My take on how the first part of season 3 should have ended.


_**[Warning! This fic contains spoilers up to and including episode 3x07 of Gotham ("Red Queen"). Its plot follows the plot of the show up to and including that episode as well. However, my fic throws out everything after 3x07 and instead chooses to imagine a more Nygmobblepot-filled solution to 3x11 rather than the 3x11 we really got. This story is how I wish 3x11 had ended. Assume that other glorious Nygmobblepot things have happened in the interim of 3x07's canon and this fic's canon. ;)]**_

 _ **[Hello all! So, if you're like me, you also think that Isabella was a super creepy clone sent by Oswald's enemies to get to Ed. And, if you're like me, you wish we had seen these things play out in the first part of season three rather than the storyline we saw play out with Isabella. That's what this fic explores. This will be my last fic for a little while (taking a break for Christmas-related things and to proofread the spectacular Nygmobblepot family fluff wonderland "To Parent a Hummingbird" by PrincessRarity20 :D), but I'll be back soon. Until then, I hope you enjoy this one-shot! Rated T for slightly bloody descriptions of violence.]**_

 **As We Breathe - A Gotham Fanfic**

Clever Ed, observant Ed - he should have seen the signs before this moment. Now he looked down the barrel of her gun in shocked indignation - brilliant Ed, superior Ed, he didn't even have the presence of mind to be terrified. Only confused. Only hurt. Only irritated at himself that he had missed this, despite thinking himself to be so spectacularly intelligent.

Even his memory only came in jabs at the moment. He remembered walking into the dining room of the Mayor's mansion with Isabella, raising her pale hand to his lips and kissing it in reverence. He smiled, she smiled back. He traced the line of her cheek with his thumb, working his way down to her red mouth, which he caressed slowly, gently. Then he remembered turning away, turning away for what felt like a second, but it was long enough for her to reach into her purse and come up with her hand clutching an object. As Ed turned back to her, she raised the object - a gun, as it turned out - and levelled it at his head with pinpoint accuracy. He reeled back at the discovery, his mouth suddenly drying out, his hands raising involuntarily - more in astonishment than to show he was unarmed.

"Isabella?" he rasped, scanning her face with a feverish urgency as she stood motionless, gun still gripped in her gloved hand.

In a moment her entire countenance had changed. No longer were those eyes bright or loving; now they sat dead in her skull, glassy like two marbles, betraying no emotion, registering no thought.

"Isabella, what is this?" he repeated her name, "What are you doing? Why are you doing this? Isabella...I thought you _loved_ me..."

"Oh, Edward," she intoned listlessly, her voice sounding mechanical, almost robotic, "You're mistaken. And you've suffered needlessly. If only you had seen the truth sooner. I'm sorry."

But she didn't sound sorry. She racked her gun and with a swift movement, lowered it towards Ed's center mass. He felt his body twitch slightly to the side in response, as if he could somehow dodge any bullet that came from the chamber.

"Isabella, I don't understand..." he whispered, "...What's happened? Who put you up to this?"

"This is who I am," she droned, "This is who I've always been, Edward. I was made for you. I was sent for you. They sent me to collect you."

"They? Who is they?"

"The Court of Owls. It's time."

And before Ed could move, she squeezed the trigger and the world became a blur of white light as he fell. Ed had been shot once before - shot in the arm, taking a bullet for Miss Kringle. Now, in his second experience, he was shot in the same arm taking a bullet from a woman who looked just like Miss Kringle. But that first time, when Ed had faced this danger, it felt entirely different. He remembered the rush of blood in his veins, every artery turning to fire and roaring to life as he braved hazard to save Kristen. Amid the ocean of adrenaline, he had only noticed his injury and the accompanying pain after the fact, pain like a hot coal that burned his skin and ate up through his nerves into his brain. But it was a cleansing pain, a pain that blended into his adrenaline high until pain and euphoria were indistinguishable from one another.

 _This_ pain now was unlike anything he had ever experienced. As he hit the ground, he was aware of the agony radiating to every section of his body from this one blistering wound that was by turns unbelievably cold and unbearably hot. His body was being eaten alive by fire and by ice. He opened his mouth to scream out, even to grunt in pain, but the searing choked the sound in his throat, leaving him gasping for air, shoving it out of his lungs as quickly as it came in. This time he was acutely aware of the blood spilling from the hole in his upper arm, running down his forearms, staining the cuff of his white shirt, making the floor slick. He was going to drown in this ocean of metallic crimson, he thought, watching as the red stained everything it touched, spreading across the cold wooden floor, making it just as hot as the rest of his being had become.

From his spot on the floor, Ed could see Isabella lower her gun as quickly as she had raised it. And there she stood, stock-still and dispassionate, staring straight ahead as he writhed. A sound hit his ears like the crashing of a wave - a door opening and closing, he realized - and in walked a second woman he had never seen before. She gave Isabella the most precursory of glances before she crossed over to him. Her eyes betraying nothing, she leaned down and squeezed the area of his arm where the bullet still resided; neither Isabella nor this new arrival seemed to feel any emotion for this action, even as Ed howled in pain, his eyes registering nothing but white spots.

When at last the pain became too much for him to bear, he could feel himself slipping down down down into the blackness, like the woman had seemed to want him to do. She relinquished her grip on his arm and, with her bloodied hands, forced his eyelids to close. He obeyed and fell into unconsciousness, his last sight being the sight of Not-Isabella and Isabella behind her, that lovely face like stone. With one great painful surge, his last thought was the dawning realization that he had been played for a fool before he went under.

...

The first sensation he was aware of was the steady dripping of water, single drops hitting a tiny puddle with a gentle splash. Somehow the sound was unbelievably loud to Ed's addled brain, echoing in his head with a dull pulsing throb. He cautioned opening his eyes and found himself awakening in a warehouse, which was alive with dozens of spanning pipes hissing with steam. In a moment, he found one on the far-end of the room that was leaking, the source of the dripping sound. He stared at it dumbly for several moments as he blinked and groaned in the haze of the harsh lights above him. No thoughts came to him, only the sound of the dripping filled his mind. And then very suddenly he winced, struggling to move, struggling to touch the source of the dull ache coming from his side...and found he was tied to a chair, his arms bound at his side. It was at that moment that everything came flooding back to him. Isabella and Not-Isabella and being shot and falling down into the blackness.

Ed's eyes immediately darted around in panic, longing to confirm that these memories were true. Sure enough, he saw his captors hovering - what was it Isabella had called them? The Court of Owls? They drifted around him now, their faces covered by masks and their eyes probing him as he squirmed in his restraints, desperate to be free.

Immediately, he thought of Oswald and found himself wishing Oswald would learn he was in trouble and come to free him. Of course, the Court of Owls would have cleaned up the scene where he was shot, erasing any trace of the event as if it had never happened. But perhaps they would miss something and some scrap of proof would exist and lead Oswald to him. Perhaps Oswald would realize something was wrong and would come find him. But with a painful barb, Ed realized how unlikely that was - after all, Oswald had worried about him once before and it had turned out he had worried for no reason. Ed had been fine then, he had merely been out with Isabella, ignoring his dearest friend in the whole world. He suspected Oswald wouldn't waste his worry on Ed this time, and Ed couldn't say he blamed him.

Speaking of which...as Ed remembered his night with Isabella, he glanced around the enormous room and realized that she was here too. Just as she had stood in the mansion, she stood motionless now, staring at nothing with her face expressionless and her eyes empty. Ed tried to whisper her name, hoping to catch her attention, wanting to believe that there was still some human part to her, but all he received for his troubles was a swift blow to his temples courtesy of one of his masked guards. He grunted in pain, shaking his head in an effort to clear the spots that had returned to his vision, feeling blood run down his face twin to the blood that had previously run down his arm.

"Now, there's no need for that..." drawled a voice, "Not yet, anyway."

The masked men who had been hovering around Ed's chair moved away now and were replaced by Her, the woman who had forced his eyes closed and plunged him into unconsciousness. She too wore a mask, but her malicious eyes shone brightly past it as if the mask was magnifying her eyes, not hiding them.

"My name is Kathryn," she purred to Ed, bending down so she could be on his eye level, "I've been very much looking forward to meeting you, Mister Nygma. Mayor Cobblepot speaks very highly of you. Although he isn't much fond of your taste in women."

She grinned wickedly and turned towards Isabella, who continued to stare.

"Quite a fantastic ruse, wouldn't you say?" Kathryn continued, walking over to Isabella and putting an arm around the blonde woman's shoulder, "Quite the convincing performance."

At these words, Ed could feel his face contort in a grimace of pain, even more pronounced than when Kathryn's goons had struck him. Kathryn immediately caught sight of it and smiled all the wider.

"But of course, you didn't know it was a ruse. You thought it was true love, come back to give you a second chance?" she chuckled as she watched his face fall; it was not a warm sound, "Oh, no, child. I'm _very sorry_ to tell you this, but your queen is actually a pawn. My pawn. She's been working for me the whole time. She's not even really a whole person - she's a clone, a permutation, a charming illusion we were able to create just for you from the remains of the lovely special friend you killed and buried in the woods."

Ed could feel his breath coming faster with each passing second. He shook his head rapidly, ignoring the pounding pain that resounded in his temple when he did so.

"No, no, that's not possible," he rasped, "None of that is possible. And besides, she-"

"What, loved you?" Kathryn tutted, "Oh, poor boy. No, she didn't. She isn't capable of feeling love. She isn't capable of feeling anything, really. She just parroted what you felt for her. Isn't that right, dear?"

She turned to Isabella with this last statement and very gently turned Isabella's head to face Ed. Ed could feel his own eyes widen in shocked sadness, his eyes swimming with the sting of this betrayal, and the minute she saw him, Isabella's face fell into the same pattern. A tear rolled down her pale cheek and her scarlet lips parted in a perfect mirror of his own grief.

"Oh, Edward..." she breathed, looking pained as she watched him.

Just as quickly as she had turned Isabella to face him, Kathryn placed a finger under Isabella's chin and turned her face away once more. Almost immediately, Isabella's countenance froze into impassivity yet again, the tears drying on her cheeks as she stared forward.

"Remarkable, isn't she?" Kathryn said, her voice dripping with fond appraisal, "She was able to perfectly mimic what you wanted her to be, perfectly mimic everything right up until the moment when we needed her to drop the charade. It's always a proud moment, seeing a child live up to their true potential. And _her_ potential is to become our greatest weapon."

"But why me?" Ed asked, unaware that his voice had suddenly crescendoed in a barb of released pain and emotion, "What makes me so special that you used this-this-this _weapon_ on me?"

"Oh, such a clever boy and he still doesn't understand," Kathryn said with a laugh, throwing her arms out as her underlings laughed with her, "Because you, Edward Nygma, have the power to do what Fish Mooney, Carmine Falcone, and the entire Red Hood Gang could not. You have the power to bring down Oswald Cobblepot."

At once, Ed felt his blood run cold.

"I would _never_ do anything to hurt Oswald," he spat, stressing the words with such emphasis and power he felt his head throb again as he did so, " _Never_."

"Well, we all know that's not quite true," Kathryn said, glancing over her shoulder at Isabella, "But even so. We don't need you to hurt him. We can do that ourselves. No, we just need you to _talk_. So, tell me about Oswald Cobblepot."

"He will come for me, you know." Ed lied, hoping that the words sounded like a certainty and not like a simple shred of fool's hope he was hanging on to.

But Kathryn was not fooled.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that, if I were you," she grinned, glancing back at Isabella once more, "So, you can either tell me about our city's fearless new leader, or I start allowing the boys here to have some fun."

She and her goons shared a growling laugh as they leered at him. Ed felt himself involuntarily flinch under their gaze, but forced his dark eyes to stare back at them.

"Why should I tell you anything?" he responded, trying to keep his voice from shaking, "You clearly have ways of discovering what you want. You discovered everything about me, after all. Why not just use your own methods to get information on Mayor Cobblepot?"

Kathryn seemed unamused by his question. Her cheek twitched slightly as if to demonstrate this irritation and she reached forward to grab Ed by the hair, causing him to gasp as her clawlike nails dug into his scalp.

"Because, _my dear_ ," she sneered, "I want to hear it from you. I want to watch you betray Oswald Cobblepot. I want you to be as base as everyone else. I want our new mayor to suffer when he realizes you're worthless like the rest of us."

"But _why_?" Ed pressed, gritting his teeth, "Why do you have such a vested interest in seeing him destroyed?"

"BECAUSE _WE_ RUN THIS TOWN!" she bellowed, releasing his head with a shove, "NOT HIM! AND WE WILL GO TO ANY LENGTHS TO DEMONSTRATE THAT!"

She took a step back and gestured to her masked devotees, who at once hauled off and landed a harsh blow across Ed's mouth. His mouth flooded with blood, pounding with a searing pain that made him splutter. He spat to the side lest he choke on the torrent of blood that was not stopping. But he looked back at his captors defiantly.

 _I'm such a fool_ , he thought to himself, _I'm such a fool to have thought that Isabella and I were meant to be. I'm such a fool to have not seen this sooner. And if Oswald gets hurt because of this, I'll never forgive myself._

Another blow to the side of his skull interrupted his mantra, causing his head to loll to one side, the white spots returning to his vision. With his hazy mind, he realized the most sickening truth of all - he already had hurt Oswald with this. He had been too oblivious to notice it at the time: the pain in Oswald's eyes when he introduced him to Isabella, the betrayal Oswald had clearly felt when Ed abandoned the Founder's Dinner in favor of a date, all that and so much more. The thought of it pained him more than any of the injuries he had received at the hands of his captors.

 _I've already betrayed him once_...Ed thought, closing his eyes against the agony of such a thought, _And I won't betray him again. No matter what_.

...

"Ed?" Oswald called as he opened the door to the mansion and peered around, "Ed, are you home?"

He was met with a deafening silence that cut through him as if he had been physically gouged. Of course Ed wasn't around. It seemed like ever since he met that blonde harlot he was _never_ around. Oswald sighed a tortured sigh and ghosted through the mansion, looking for the person who held the confirmation he sought. At long last, he found her, folding towels in a guest room.

"Olga! There you are! I wanted to know, have you seen Ed today...or, rather, Mister Nygma?"

"No, I have not..." Olga responded. Her English was definitely improving, so at least the money was going to some good, "Not seen him since last night."

"Since last night?" Oswald repeated, voice thick with confusion, "That's not possible. That makes no sense."

Ed had left at approximately six o'clock the previous night for a date with Isabella. He planned to stay overnight - a thought that made Oswald cringe - but promised to be back by early afternoon at the latest and told Oswald not to wait for him. But early afternoon had come and gone, and evening was approaching with still no word from Ed. He had done this once before - the night when Oswald had planned to confess his love. That night he stayed out for over twelve hours, coming home in a fog as if he had forgotten about his other life, his real life. But upon seeing Oswald's panic, Ed promised he would always call if circumstances meant he would be gone for longer than he said.

"If something changed on his end, he would have called," Oswald said, more to reassure himself than anything.

Olga merely shrugged, "Maybe he forget. Maybe he...busy with something else."

"No, no, he would have called," Oswald insisted, "He wouldn't do that to me."

But Oswald couldn't help but sigh. His mind kept wandering back to that twelve-hour date when Ed had rushed in after so long with no word. And yet, that was the thing about Ed - over the course of the past several days, he may have been coming home late, often annoyingly humming Vivaldi or looking totally besotted...but he _always_ came home.

"Olga..." Oswald said, suddenly struck with a thought, "When did you get here this afternoon?"

"Two hours ago. Two o'clock."

"Two o'clock?" he repeated. He himself had left the house at noon. That meant almost two hours in which no one had been in the house. What if Ed had come home, but had since been forced to leave again?

At once, Oswald was off through the house, searching for any evidence of what could have happened to Ed.

"Mister Penguin, I think you are having...over-active imaginings," Olga called to him as she hurried to follow along, "Mister Nygma probably just stay out with his lady and forget to call. Nothing more."

But Oswald ignored her as he entered the dining room. Immediately, he was stopped by the strong smell of bleach.

"Olga, did you clean in here?"

"No, I've only cleaned bedrooms so far."

And yet this space had very obviously just been cleaned. Oswald peered around the space in confusion, looking for some sign that would validate his paranoia.

"Mister Penguin, please sit down. Let me make you some tea, _da_?"

"I'm fine, Olga, I don't want any tea!" Oswald replied with a wave of his hand, "That will be all."

She departed, tutting to herself, leaving Oswald to bend carefully and examine the scrubbed floor. He ran his finger along the wood slowly. If something had happened here - something that required someone to clean up - there had to be a place they missed. There was always a place they missed, after all. A moment passed and Oswald continued to search when at last he remembered the loose floorboards that punctuated much of the old mansion's floor. He found one now and pried it up, hoping it provided a clue to this mystery. And sure enough, with a gasp he realized the underside of the board was slick with crimson. Blood, such as might run into the loose crack and not be noticed during clean-up.

Immediately, his mind jumped to the most horrible situations he could imagine, but he forced himself to stop thinking. All that seemed apparent at the moment was that Ed was injured and missing, nothing worse. And Oswald would do everything in his power to find his Chief of Staff, that much was certain. But how? He didn't know where Ed was or even who had him. He could try to track his phone, but whoever was holding Ed captive would likely have destroyed or otherwise disposed of it as one of the first things they did. But if Oswald was right and Ed was still with who he thought Ed was with, there might be another way to track him. He crossed over to the desk where Ed had stashed Isabella's number after that first night and held the tiny piece of paper in his hand. Maybe, just maybe, he could track _her_ number, and if they were still together, Oswald could find Ed that way. She was either in this just as deep and Ed or a part of it, but either way, Oswald prayed his idea would work and that he would find Ed safe. There was no other option - he _had_ to find Ed safe and sound. He just had to. And with this thought in mind, he departed to rally the troops.

...

Ever since his childhood, Ed had taught himself a simple survival trick, a way to remove himself from pain and mental anguish - to find somewhere safe in his mind and stay there. At the moment, his safe place was Oswald. For some reason, his mind chose to serve him another moment when he was in extreme peril to be his emotional safe space - the night at The Sirens when he had played Butch...and had almost paid dearly for it. He remembered the air being compressed out of his lungs, his entire chest on fire as the air flow slowed and then stopped. The world spun, he saw white - he didn't even have time to think he was dying, although that's exactly what it was. He just sank like he was floating in an enormous black lake, the waves lulling him gently into unconsciousness. And then all at once, the lake was dredged. Air came back into his lungs so violently it was like it had been smacked into him. When he opened his eyes, his first sight was Oswald. Ed drank in the sight of him the same way he drank oxygen into his bruised lungs as he coughed and spasmed.

He remembered the way Oswald's hands had found the side of his head, the way Oswald had cupped his face as the blood pounded in his ears so that all Ed heard was the sound of that blood rushing through him like the faux sound of the ocean through a seashell. He remembered his cheeks growing rapidly warmer under Oswald's hands - and not just because of the blood that had once again returned to his face. And after a few seconds of watching the look in the other man's eyes fade from frightened to relieved to overjoyed, he realized it was Oswald who had saved him. Ed had immediately been barbed with an overwhelming gratitude - the type he had never experienced in his entire life - and something deeper, something so all-encompassing it threatened to choke him all over again...

Who was he kidding? He knew precisely why his mind had picked this memory.

He had lost track of the blows at this point. There had definitely been another to his head, at least three to his gut, and another swift jab across the mouth so violent he could swear he heard teeth crack. A torrent of blood streamed from his nose like a faucet and there was still the gunshot wound to his arm to consider. But even in this state, he couldn't help but smile to himself as he thought of this memory in which he was safe. He was always safe with Oswald...

"Tell me something and this all stops," a voice...Kathryn's voice...was saying, " _Anything_. Tell me his weaknesses, tell me his strengths. Tell me his daily schedule, for Christ's sake! Tell me what I want to hear and we'll stop hurting you."

Ed managed to shake his head in a weak "no", earning him another sharp blow to the side of his head, making him yelp sharply in agony.

"You naïve, idiot boy," Kathryn rebuked, her voice ringing in the empty room, "I _am_ willing to kill you, just to show my resolve. Just to hurt the mayor all that much more. Is this really what you want?"

"What I want is to see Oswald destroy you." Ed replied thickly, spitting more blood out of his mouth.

"And what makes you so certain he can?"

"Because I believe in him," Ed said, his voice rising almost into a taunt.

Kathryn merely snorted in response and, with a flick of her hand, inspired one of the goons to land another punch across Ed's face. A fresh torrent of blood answered the previous one, causing Ed to choke once more.

 _This is it_ , he thought to himself, _I'm going to die like this. I'm going to die in this warehouse._

Ed imagined he would feel something more at that thought - fear, regret, anger, sadness. At the moment, however, he felt nothing. Nothing but the satisfaction that when he died, he would be dying for Oswald.

 _After all, I did say I would do anything for him...I suppose that includes die. And besides, I deserve it after everything I've put him through._

"I so want to watch you betray the Penguin," Kathryn said from somewhere far off, "But since you won't play the game, I'll merely spin the narrative. You will die and as far as Mister Cobblepot will know, you died betraying him. Your death will destroy him all the more for that fact. It will require a little more work on my part, but I've always been willing to put some legwork in if the end result is worth it."

Ed could just make out the quiet _click_ as Kathryn racked her gun.

"Goodbye, Mister Nygma." she snarled, coming up to him and levelling the gun.

 _Oswald, you're the only thing I regret leaving behind_...he thought as he closed his eyes. What he wouldn't give to see Oswald one last time...

Suddenly the sound of a bullet ricocheted through the empty room. If it was the bullet that had his name on it, then death certainly felt strange. But after a beat, Ed realized that Kathryn and her underlings looked confused, shocked...clearly the bullet had not come from Kathryn's gun, it had come from somewhere else. He forced himself to look up, squinting into the distance which he could not see without his long-ago broken glasses. But soon the gunfire crescendoed until it was deafening. Members of the Court of Owls began to fall with sharp cries of anguish. Kathryn swore under her breath as her small handgun proved no match against her new enemy's significant firepower, and so she and her masked inner circle fled as the bullets continued. Isabella seemed to be awoken from her stupor for the first time since the entire debacle began, but whether she ran or stayed behind, whether she made it or was among those struck, Ed could not see. But slowly, as the gunmen came into focus, Ed could just make out the faces of people he recognized - people he knew all worked for one person and one person only...

"Oswald?" he whispered, squinting even harder.

Through the fray, Ed could just make out the sight of Oswald's small hunched frame sweeping into the room with an aura simultaneously of awesome power and panicked desperation. He turned when he saw Ed and his mouth dropped open at the sight of the man before him, broken and tied to a chair. What a sight Ed must have been.

"Ed!" Oswald was shouting, hobbling over to the chair as fast as his bad leg would allow. In his hand he was hauling a massive shotgun, which had evidentially been a part of the fire fight that allowed his crew access to the warehouse.

"Oswald..." Ed repeated, voice thick with shock as Oswald began freeing him from his bonds, "You came...you came to save me anyway."

"OF COURSE I CAME TO SAVE YOU!" Oswald screamed back in response, "I'LL ALWAYS COME TO SAVE YOU, YOU IDIOT! NOW COME ON!"

Oswald hauled Ed out of the chair with a surprising amount of strength and kept Ed upright by wrapping his arm around the taller man's waist. Immediately, Ed bent to accommodate Oswald's shorter frame and in this way allowed himself to be dragged, panting, across the warehouse.

As the Court of Owls fled, they continued to trade fire with Oswald's gunmen. Assorted yelps of pain could be heard, the sound of bodies hitting the floor, but as Ed and Oswald mutually hobbled towards the exit, it was impossible to tell which side was winning or losing.

"Don't look back," Oswald instructed when Ed began to turn his head and Ed obeyed.

The journey was a difficult one. Ed was half-blind without his glasses and his broken body begged for sleep with every step. As they struggled away from the melee, another shot rang out and Ed felt a bullet cut through his back like an auger, eliciting a scream of agony from his lips.

"Ed!" Oswald cried, eyes wide with shock as he realized his friend had been hit again, "Hang on, Ed, I'm going to get you out of here!"

Ed could feel himself slipping, but Oswald refused to let him go under. He continued to pull Ed in the direction of the door, both of them struggling - Ed with his injuries, Oswald under the strain of his bad leg - until they were both sweating and panting. But after what seemed like eons, Ed could smell the thick, moist air of the city beyond the eternal warehouse and see the night sky - it had been afternoon when he last saw the sky. As Oswald shoved him out the door, fresh air returned to his lungs so quickly that it made him dizzy. Everything hurt - his arms, his head, his back, his chest. It hurt to breath, it hurt to think, it hurt to even stand in the night air. He felt his legs buckle and began to fall, Oswald's grip the only thing that saved him from connecting with the sidewalk at a faster rate.

"Ed, don't you dare slip away from me now, do you hear me?" Oswald was asking him, hovering above him. He looked away for a moment, clearly to some underling waiting by the car and bellowed, "Don't just stand there, you imbecile! Call an ambulance! Tell them it's for the mayor! Do it now!"

 _How funny_ , Ed thought, smiling in spite of the pain, _Oswald's face above me again. It's always Oswald, isn't it? It's always going to be Oswald._

"Hang on, Ed, help's coming. Hang on," Oswald was saying again, looking concerned as he tried to grip Ed's face, tried to make Ed look into his eyes, "Hang on."

Once again, Ed could feel himself slipping into unconsciousness, his mind returning him to the safe space where nothing could hurt him. Only this time, the safe space was the memory of after they had returned home from the attack at The Sirens. This time, it was the memory of Oswald bringing him tea as they sat together on the couch and the way Oswald had hugged him in gratitude, the way he had tightened his grip on Ed's back in affection. Not for the first time that night, Ed rebuked himself for his stupidity. He had played right into the Court of Owls' hands - they had wanted to turn his head using Isabella as a reminder of his past, to sway him from what he had felt that night in the mansion, what he felt right now at this moment, what he would feel every moment from now until the day he died.

 _Oswald's right, I am an idiot_ , he thought with a small smile. But he wouldn't readily make the same mistake again.

He cocooned himself in that safe thought and, with Oswald repeating his name as his mantra, Ed allowed himself to fall back into the blackness.

...

They weren't letting Oswald see Ed - and no amount of him reminding the hospital staff that he was the mayor seemed to be changing that. So he was left waiting outside in the drab waiting room like a commoner, rubbing his hands together in concern over Edward Nygma, who was lying in a hospital room half dead for his sake. After awhile, he became impatient and began to wander as quickly as his leg would allow him, pacing absent-mindedly in an attempt to distract himself from the torture of waiting. But nothing worked. Nothing but seeing Ed alive and well would sooth his frayed nerves.

After hours, a white-clad doctor emerged, face impassive and eyes stony. Oswald had sunk back into a nearby chair, but at the sight of the doctor, he was on his feet once more.

"How is he?" Oswald asked, and was surprised by how small his own voice sounded.

"He'll recover," said the doctor and Oswald could feel himself release a sigh of relief, "He's been through hell and back again, but I'd say you got to him just in time, Mister Mayor."

"Can I see him?" was of course Oswald's next question.

The doctor looked conflicted, "I don't know, he's still very groggy. He really needs to sleep..."

"Please." Oswald said, his voice firm and eliciting a look of shock from the doctor. Oswald supposed that no one in Gotham really ever expected The Penguin to be as sentimental as it always turned out he was.

"Alright," the doctor relented, "But try to keep it brief."

Oswald babbled his thank you's and then was off to the appointed room where Ed would be waiting. He knocked quietly at the door before entering. Ed was connected to dozens of whirling monitors and tubes, and he looked so very pale in the dim yellow light of the quiet hospital room. With the blood cleaned from his face, it was possible to see the bruises that were beginning to form, the lacerations that were stitched up by the hospital staff. At once, Oswald felt his heart lurch in sadness for the man lying in front of him, but he sucked in a breath and tried to put on a smile.

"Knock, knock," he whispered as he walked towards the bed.

"Oswald?" Ed asked, looking around, "I can't see you. You don't happen to have..."

"Oh!" Oswald said, suddenly remembering the item he had been carrying around for hours - a pair of Ed's glasses, "I do, actually. I had Gabe and Victor go to the mansion to get them for you."

Ed took the glasses in his hands with something akin to reverence and put them on, his gaze immediately swiveling to Oswald.

"There," he said with a tiny smile, "Now I can see you."

After a beat, he laughed to himself, his voice slurred with pain medications and a lack of sleep.

"I wonder what I must look like..." he said, holding out his non-damaged arm as if in an invitation to survey him.

Oswald managed a weak smile, "You should see the other guys."

That elicited another small laugh from Ed, a laugh that Oswald couldn't help but return. They sat smiling for a moment, but Oswald's face fell quickly and he sank into a chair that had been positioned next to the bed.

"Ed..." he whispered, and his voice was so full of regret it almost didn't sound like his own. He reached out a hand, longing to comfort his friend, but drew it back.

Ed at once realized Oswald's dilemma and smiled, "Go ahead. It doesn't matter where you touch. It hurts everywhere."

Oswald nodded slightly and very carefully reached out to take Ed's hand. When Ed didn't wince, he closed his fingers around it, feeling anchored for the first time since this whole ordeal began.

"Ed, you have to stop putting yourself in danger for me," Oswald said, clutching Ed's hand all the more dearly as if for emphasis, "Please."

"If I can't put myself in danger for you, what else _is_ there to put myself in danger for?" Ed asked, still smiling.

"That's my point. I don't _ever_ want you to put yourself in danger. If anything ever happened to you - especially if it was because of me - I wouldn't be able to live with myself, Ed, I mean it."

"I'll be alright...as long as you're there to save me," Ed paused, turning his face away from Oswald and sighing a great sigh. After a moment, he turned back, studying the smaller man's face with such intensity it took everything Oswald had in him to not shrink back self-consciously, "Why _did_ you save me, Oswald?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Why, after everything I've done to you, did you save me anyway? You didn't have to."

"If you're talking about all that nonsense with Isabella, forget it, Ed. She...I...I mean, you love her and I would-"

"No, I don't," Ed replied flatly.

"What?" Oswald could feel his breath coming more and more rapidly now.

"I don't love her," Ed replied, "I thought I did. But I was wrong. She was a pawn used to trick me. She was designed to infatuate me and get me to let my guard down so the Court of Owls could get to you. She didn't love me at all. And now I realize I didn't love her either. And I'm sorry for everything I put you through because of it."

"Don't apologize," Oswald whispered, his voice breaking with the tears he was struggling to withhold, "You never have to apologize...for anything."

"But I _am_ sorry, Oswald..." Ed said, his eyes never leaving Oswald's face, "And I want to know why you saved me."

"Because I meant what I said at the warehouse," Oswald replied, "I will always come to save you. Every time. No matter what."

Ed smiled weakly as he stared at Oswald, blinking very slowly in the dim light.

"You were my safe space during that whole thing, you know," he said quietly, "The worse it got, the more I thought of you. And with you I was safe."

"You're always safe with me..." Oswald said, even though up until this point it hadn't been true.

Ed smiled in response and gripped at Oswald's hand all the more, his long fingers stroking the skin gently as if to show the same was true as far as Ed was concerned. They sat in that position for a beat longer, smiling at each other, until Ed broke the silence.

"So what happens now?" he asked, "With the Court of Owls, I mean? I didn't tell them a thing, but Oswald...they're a very old society within Gotham and they don't like that you have the power now. Oswald, they're coming for you."

Oswald nodded along in recognition of Ed's statement, pursing his lips in thought. After a moment, he placed his other hand on top of the knot made by his and Ed's mutual grip, giving Ed's slender hand a small shake as if to show his resolve.

"Let them come," he said, "We'll face them - together. They're no match for the two of us. We'll make them suffer, I can promise you that."

"I would like that very much," Ed replied, " _Together_..."

He seemed to be dosing off with each passing minute, his eyes closing more and more each time. As he spoke now, his eyes slipped closed all the more.

"Ed..." Oswald said, his voice barbed with gentle admonition.

"I really want to keep talking...to just keep hearing your voice..." Ed droned, "But I'm...exhausted..."

"Please, sleep. Don't stay awake on my account, Edward Nygma," Oswald said, reluctantly freeing his hand from Ed's. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and smooth Ed's hair out of his face, but he restrained himself, "Soon we'll be able to go home. But for now, just rest. It's the best thing for you."

"Fine..." Ed agreed reluctantly. But as Oswald stood to depart, Ed quickly reached out to touch his friend's arm, "But Oswald...would you stay here for just a little longer while I sleep? Please?"

"Of course," Oswald nodded, feeling emotion choke him once more as he sat back down, "I'll be right here. And Ed? I'm so glad you're alright."

"Me too..." Ed chuckled slightly before finally allowing his eyes to shut.

Oswald sat there for several minutes, just staring at Ed and glancing around the empty room, which was silent except for the gentle humming of Ed's monitor. How many times would he come close to losing this man? he thought with a sigh. But somehow, it didn't matter to him at the moment, because Ed was here in front of him still.

As time passed, he quickly realized the sound of Ed's breathing had changed. It was now deep and low, the heavy breathing of someone who had since fallen fast asleep.

"Ed?" Oswald whispered and when he got no response, he ventured to speak a bit louder, "Ed?"

Still no response - and thank goodness for it too. He really did need to rest after all he had been through. As Oswald watched the gentle rise and fall of Ed's chest, he felt himself being slowly overwhelmed by his love for this man in front of him. He smiled slightly and closed his eyes against the great wave of emotion.

"Oh, Ed..." he said quietly to the empty room and the sleeping man in front of him, "You said you'd do anything for me, but I wonder if you know, I'd do anything for you too..."

He sighed and plowed on, feeling his tongue suddenly freed.

"You are everything to me, Ed. And I want to do everything in my power to make sure you're okay. Heaven knows I don't care a lick about most of this city, but you...you're the only reason I'm even considering sticking to that stupid campaign promise. I want this city to be safe for _you_. And I swear I'd crawl across broken glass to do it. Because Ed...dear Ed...my dearest, dearest darling...I love you. More than I ever thought possible. You are the one good thing left in this world and I don't deserve you. But as much as I don't deserve you, that's also how much I adore you...and I will until the day I die."

For a moment he merely sat there in the darkened room, breathing slightly heavier as if he had run a great distance. He smiled down at Ed with such pure joy, he thought surely his face would freeze in that position.

"It feels good to say that to you, even if you're asleep...even if you can't hear me. Maybe one day I'll say it to you for real." Oswald laughed to himself, "But for now it's enough to say it like this. For now it's enough to know we'll go home soon and plot and plan and just be side-by-side. And Ed, please know that as long as there is breath in my body I will fight for you. As long as there is breath in my body I will protect you, and defend you...and I'll love you. No matter what."

He longed to touch the man before him, to stroke his cheeks or kiss the top of his head, but he knew any such thing would cause Ed to stir and he was loath to make that happen. Instead, he raised his fingers to his lips and kissed them for a long time before pressing those fingers to Ed's hand. When Ed didn't stir, he pressed just a bit harder, as if to make sure the gesture was completed fully.

"Goodnight, Edward Nygma. I love you..."

Then, after another beat and another glance in Ed's direction, he crept from the room as silently as he could.

After a few moments of making sure Oswald had truly departed, Ed opened his eyes cautiously, his gaze transfixed in the direction of the door.

"I love you, too..." he whispered with a small smile before he fell back on his pillow and was asleep for real.


End file.
